


pag-agos

by sushishorts



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: I'll do it, M/M, [mom voice] no one ever helps me in this house, filipino!Iwaizumi, hiding behind vernacular, no one wants to write it so fuck it, that cliche fic i've been looking for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 08:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushishorts/pseuds/sushishorts
Summary: For their graduation trip, Tooru decides they should visit Iwaizumi's other home - the Philippines. In the midst of their vacation, Hajime decides to confess behind a language Tooru doesn't speak.





	pag-agos

**Author's Note:**

> this is a two year old fic
> 
> no, really, i don't know why i didn't post it so soon; i think it's been done for almost a year but i was debating how to do the translations, but i realized doing footnotes would take too much characters, and i wasn't sure if it was gonna fit
> 
> anyway! filipino!iwaizumi is a headcanon of mine tbh, not sure where it originated but i think it was from a mutual and i just sort of ran with it and made headcanons, rationalizing why iwaizumi is a tad shorter and tanner than the rest
> 
> again, before anyone polices me over this, i am filipino. translations aren't verbatim; they're what i think fits the situation best, but most of them are, don't worry. i realized how hard translating is tbh, there are just words that will never have an english counterpart and that INFURIATES ME
> 
> title is from up dharma down's [pag-agos](https://open.spotify.com/track/4MYQfBVT9pE8zHXtJe86A0), which is one of my favorite songs from the band; i'd imagine iwaizumi listens to them a lot tbh, esp with the line "'di alam kung tatakbo / o kusang lalayo sa'yo"
> 
> unbeta-ed, i'll check it as i go, i just want to upload this to get it over with
> 
> it's true; malandi nga si oikawa! dyosko

\--

 

He promises it when he is ten years old.

Tooru, a common fixture at the Iwaizumi residence ever since he is three years old, is eating dinner with the Iwaizumi family when he asks Hajime's mom, "Obaa-san, where is the Philippines?"

She looks stunned at his question but smiles anyway. She takes Tooru's fair hands and tells him, "It's far away from here, but you could take a plane to get there."

"Oh," Tooru only says, and Hajime could tell he is disappointed. "I wanted to see it for myself."

"Don't worry sweetie, you can go when you're a tad bit older," She assures him, standing up to get seconds of their viand. Tooru loves Obaa-san's adobo, since Hajime always invites him over when it's the meal for the day. "Seconds?"

"Yes please!"

Later on in Hajime's room, Tooru takes his time to locate the Philippines on the world map. He is relieved when he finds out that it isn't as far as he thought it was.

"Iwa-chan, what's the Philippines like?"

"Warm," Hajime answers immediately. Tooru eagerly waits for the rest. "But everyone seems to be happy. They were excited to see mom."

"Did they like you?"

"Yeah, my cousins were eager to hear me speak in Filipino," He shrugs like it was no big deal, but Tooru knows he is preening inside. Iwa-chan is proud like that. "They taught me a few games and they gave me weird sweets. I had fun."

Tooru frowns a bit at that. He has had an uneventful summer while Hajime is away, but he doesn’t want him to know that. Still, he is glad Hajime is happy, but his stomach clenches at the thought of him not being around Tooru for a long, long time. He thinks about the distance, how Japan and the Philippines are separated by miles of water stretching out beyond his sight.

He thinks about Hajime’s skin, naturally darker than his pale one that set him apart from the start, and he thinks about how Hajime is half Japanese and half Filipino but still his friend, despite the differences. He wonders if Hajime calls Japan his “home”, or if he calls the Philippines that instead.

"Iwa-chan, will you take me there someday?"

Tooru watches Hajime’s reactions intently, knowing that he’d be crushed if he expresses any thought of negation for the question. But Hajime only nods in response while he watches his favorite sentai show, and Tooru can't explain the happiness he felt when he says yes.

 

 

 

It comes up again before graduation, when they've said goodbyes to the team and they're planning their graduation trip together. Tooru looks over the travel guides in various places in Kyoto with little interest, knowing that Hajime is getting annoyed at his lack of cooperation in choosing. 

"Isn't it a bit cliche to go to an onsen for this? We've been going there every year."

"Then fucking help me choose, Shittykawa. I'm not the only one going on a vacation, you idiot."

Tooru sighs. He isn't in the mood to argue with Hajime, nor is he excited in the prospect of leaving high school. Leaving Aoba Jousai means separating from Hajime, and they already know they would be attending different universities. Tooru knows better than convince him to stay with him, but he wishes sometimes. That he is that selfish when it comes to Hajime, and that he has the right to be.

At the corner of Hajime's room is a picture of the family on their vacation in the Philippines ten years ago. Hajime is riding a cow (that Hajime insisted is a "carabao", whatever that is) while his parents pose with him.

In a flash, Tooru remembers the promise.

"Hey Iwa-chan," Tooru says tentatively, and Hajime is already scowling at him. He ignores the scowl and grins. "Remember your promise?"

"What promise."

Tooru points at the picture. "I've decided where I want us to go!"

 

 

 

It takes a bit of convincing for Tooru’s parents because he has never travelled overseas without them before, but Obaa-san is kind enough to tell them what they could expect on their trip, and Hajime is quick to back up when his mother forgot some details. Tooru is buzzing; he is afraid they wouldn’t let him go but hopes for the best.

By promising that Tooru would call or message them regularly, Tooru’s mom nods in approval. He jumps from his seat to thank his parents and hugs Obaa-san for her help. He smiles at Hajime who seems like he is in content, and Tooru knows that the trip will be the most fun he’s had in a while.

“Oh Tooru, you’d have so much fun there,” Obaa-san tells him before they leave for home, and Tooru nods impatiently, not knowing what to say. “I hope you make it your home, too, eventually.”

Tooru misses the way Hajime turns red before he opens the door.

 

 

 

Packing for the trip is a breeze for him, because Hajime tells him that the weather will be warm for the most part, so he need not wear too many layers. He packs a lot of shirts and shorts just in case it got too warm, because according to Hajime, summer in the Philippines starts at April and they are to be get there by the third week of March.

“You should probably leave some space for souvenirs,” Hajime tells him over the phone. “You’d be surprised at how good the snacks are there. I’ll tell you what. Bring over random snacks from the convenience store, and we’ll trade it in there for local snacks.”

Tooru has no idea where you could trade Japanese snacks for Filipino snacks, but he figures Hajime knows what he’s saying. With a wary “okay”, he ends the call, and decides to leave a few kilograms spare for snacks. Hajime better be right.

 

 

 

Before the two of them leave for the airport, their parents give them a few more instructions and extra pocket money for the trip.

“ _Mag-iingat kayo,_ ” Obaa-san says to Hajime sternly. He nods in complete understanding, and offers her mother the warmest of smiles. “ _Matagal mo na siyang gustong dalin doon, ‘di ba?_ ” ("Be careful. You’ve been wanting to bring him there for a long time, haven’t you?")

“Ma,” Hajime says, rolling his eyes. “ _Hindi ko naman alam kung mangyayari lahat ng plinano ko eh._ ” ("I don't know if my plans will push through, anyway.")

“ _Basta tumawag ka samin ng Papa mo, okay?_ ” ("Just remember to call your father and I, okay?")

“ _Opo_.” ("Okay.")

Tooru watches in fascination as they exchanged their native language without difficulty. He knows Hajime has been brought up in both Japanese and Filipino, but he never really spoke the other when Tooru is around. Obaa-san comes over to Tooru’s side and gives him a quick lesson.

“My family is expecting you and will be picking you two up from the airport,” She says. “When you meet them, tell them _Mabuhay_!”

“Ma… buhay?” Tooru repeats, the word sliding off his tongue awkwardly. Hajime snickers in the background, and Tooru shoots him a nasty glare.

“They’d be happy to meet you, Tooru-kun. Please take care of Hajime for us.”

“I’ll be inconveniencing him for a while, so please look after my parents in my stead,” Tooru says, and he bows at Obaa-san and Oji-san, and they bow back accordingly. The taxi arrives in time, and they say their final goodbyes.

 

 

 

The thing is, they never really talk as much as they seem to when they’re at school. There has always been peace in silence, and Tooru is the type of person who feels drained after a long day of conversing with people. Being charismatic took energy, so by the end of the day, when they’re both settled at the back seat of the bus with him on the window seat, Tooru is almost rolling in the solemn mood.

Sometimes, Tooru pretends to fall asleep so he could rest his head on Hajime’s shoulder. His ace has buff deltoids and it isn’t the most comfortable pseudo-cushion to have after a long day of practice, but it is Hajime, and the way he smells almost like home is calming, so he pretends a lot.

If Hajime notices, Tooru never dares ask. Still, he could feel the ghost of Hajime’s hand on his, so maybe he isn’t the only one pretending.

(Sometimes, Tooru would hear Hajime hum a tune, always the same one, and he wished he isn’t pretending because he is dying to ask what song it is.)

 

 

 

The plane ride is peaceful enough. Tooru calls dibs on the window seat, and Hajime knows better than fight him for it, so he gives it up without even trying.

“Are you excited?” Tooru asks, looking at the magazines in front of him.

“I am,” Hajime answers. He reaches for his hand-carry and searches for his earphones. “It’s been a while. We Skype often, but it’s not quite the same, y’know? Being there.”

No, Tooru wants to answer. He doesn’t know; not to that extent.

He flips through it without much thought; there is a feature dedicated to the colorful festivals at the Philippines and he notes how everyone’s smiling on the pages.

“Iwa-chan, how come Filipinos love to smile, but you don’t? I can see your frown lines from a mile away!”

Tooru gets flicked on the forehead. The spot burns the whole plane ride, but he doesn’t mind a bit.

 

 

 

Manila is humid and busy and loud all at once, and for a moment, Tooru feels extremely overwhelmed, but with Hajime’s hand on his shoulder on their way outside the airport, he feels safe in seconds.

From across the parking lot, a group of loud, boisterous bunch waves at them, and Hajime waves back with equal fervor. He drops his duffel bag and runs to meet one of the little girls to carry her up high and give her cheek kisses.

“Kuya Hajime, stop!” The girl squeals, but Hajime is relentless. Tooru watches with a gentle smile, and gives them space.

The grown-ups greet him with the widest of smiles, and Hajime takes their hand and presses his forehead on the opposite of their palms. His uncles ruffle his hair, while his aunts press eager kisses on his cheek. Hajime looks back, remembering that Tooru was with him, and jogs back to get his duffle and pull Tooru along to meet his family.

“ _Kuya Hajime, ang gwapo naman niya! Sino siya? Jowa mo?_ ” One of his female cousins asks, and Hajime rolls his eyes. ("Big brother Hajime, he's so handsome! Who is he? Your lover?")

“ _Huw_ _ag kayong makulit, mga pasaway! At kung pwede, mag-English kayo pag kausap siya, nakakaintindi siya ng onti. Pero guys, si Oikawa Tooru pala, kaibigan ko,_ ” Hajime says, pulling Tooru in the group. Hearing his name, Tooru bows and smiles accordingly, and he is sure Hajime’s aunts are swooning over his smile. ("Quit it, you silly bunch! And would you please talk to him in English? He understands quite a bit. But anyway, this is Oikawa Tooru, my friend.")

“ _Ang gwapo naman, Hajime! Wag mo na iuwi! Samin nalang siya!”_ His female cousins says, grinning ferociously like Tooru is fresh hunt for slaughter. ("He's so handsome, Hajime! Don't let him go; leave him to us!")

“ _Sabing 'wag kayong makulit eh. Akin to, walang aagaw.”_ ("I told you to quit it. He's mine, so just give up.")

Whatever Hajime has said makes everyone cheer and laugh, especially his cousins.

“What? What did you say? Did you say I was ugly? Damnit Iwa-chan, this will never work unless you tell me what they’re saying!” Tooru panics, looking around all flustered.

“Oh shush, they’re teasing you for being too good-looking. I should leave you here, they say,” Hajime says, and Tooru pouts at him for being so unfair. One of his aunts passes over two bottles of water, and he gives one to Tooru. The brunette says his thanks and drinks immediately, and surprises himself by drinking the whole thing in one go.

The older ones usher them and their belongings to a sedan, where the airconditioning is cool. Tooru barely notices how much he has sweated over the past few minutes. Inside the car, an aunt passes the small girl over to Hajime. She settles nicely on Hajime’s lap and giggles profusely. Her mother, then introduced as Aunt Lou, sat beside Hajime and takes the little girl back, introduced as Shiela.

“Say hi to Tooru, Shiela.”

“Hi,” the little girl parrots out, hiding her face immediately on Hajime’s chest.

“Hi Shiela,” Tooru smiles, giving him a small wave. The girl takes a small peek, then hides again to Hajime’s chest. Tooru’s not sure why his heart is melting, but it probably involves bulky Hajime and a sweet little angel all at once. “She’s cute, Iwa-chan!”

“Sorry, she’s not used to strangers,” Hajime apologizes, trying to get his cousin to look at Tooru. Tooru shakes his head, mouthing “it’s fine.” “ _Si Kuya Tooru yan o. Sabi mo gusto mo siya makilala.”_ ("That's big brother Tooru. You said you wanted to meet him.")

“ _Pogi,_ ” the girl mumbles. ("Handsome.") The car erupts into a chorus of laughter. Tooru waits for the explanation.

Hajime just beams a smile at him, the joke lost in Tooru’s eyes. He figures it’s about his face again, so he settles on looking out the window, listening at the untranslated conversations in the background.

( _“Baka matunaw yan, Hajime. Tama na titig.”_ ["Hajime, he might melt. Quit staring."]

 _“Bwiset.”_ ["Damnit."])

 

 

 

The traffic is terrible, and when Tooru comments on it, the ace only chuckles.

“Manila is never for the patient,” Hajime’s uncle says in English. “Still, we wait. It’s all we could do anyway.”

Tooru keeps it in mind. Hajime distracts him by passing one of his headphones. Playing is a Filipino song sung by a woman, accompanied by soft piano and violin. He recognizes the song once it reaches the chorus.

It’s the song Hajime keeps on humming when he falls asleep.

“Iwa-chan, what does ‘ _malaya ka na’_ mean?”

Hajime’s cousin looks at him knowingly. “You’re free now,” Hajime answers.

Tooru’s chest tightens as the song progresses. He stays quiet the whole trip.

 

 

 

When he thinks the group who has welcomed them at the airport is huge, he definitely isn’t expecting the party upon their arrival.

Hajime’s uncles have tables lined up outside the house with a karaoke machine perched at the end. They are drinking beer and brandy straight up, singing along to what seems like old ballads. Hajime proceeds on greeting every single one of them with what Hajime refers to as “ _mano_ ”, or pressing his forehead on the elder’s hand. Tooru is unsure if he should do it too, but Hajime tells him that it’s fine to just bow if it’s too much work.

“I wanna do it!” Tooru says excitedly. “I wanna be respectful to Iwa-chan’s family!”

Except he isn’t expecting on proceeding to show respect for every elder in the house, from uncles to aunts to grandparents to family friends. By the time they are ushered to the dining table to eat, Tooru is more than ready to have his fill.

The house is lively; everyone seems excited with the prospect of a visitor from another country that they keep on shoving random food on Tooru’s plate. He can’t bring himself to be overwhelmed because everything tastes good, and Hajime is only laughing at his face while he tastes each one.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru looks at Hajime with eyes wide. “What did they put in this?”

“Too good?” Hajime asks, and Tooru nods immediately. “Wait ‘til dessert comes in.”

“There’s MORE?!”

 

 

 

When Tooru’s too full to even stand, Hajime pulls him up so he could point where he’s rooming for the duration of their stay. Tooru looks confused and scared all at the same time. Hajime frowns.

“What, you didn’t think we’d share rooms, did you?”

Tooru looks elsewhere. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, I mean… I don’t know anyone here; I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

Hajime pauses on his tracks. Tooru walks into him and bumps on his shoulder.

“Ow, Iwa-chan, you’re too muscular!”

Hajime rolls his eyes. “You’re right, we should room together. I still think there’s ghosts in this house. Besides, the white lady who roams the second floor likes your room the best.”

“Iwa-chan!”

 

 

 

It takes a while before Tooru could dry his hair because they had to figure out the voltages. After asking for help, they are given a few adaptors they could use during their stay. By the time he plugged in his hairdryer, his hair is half dry and sweat is building on his scalp.

“Iwa-chan, why is it so hot in here?”

Hajime only laughs. Tooru thinks he brought him along just for the laughs.

It boils down to the sleeping arrangements, and Tooru is more than ready to sleep on the floor. Hajime kicks him.

“Take the bed, idiot.”

“Rude! I’m being a gentleman and letting you take the bed! I don’t want to intrude—“

Hajime runs his hand over his face. “Look. If you want me to take the bed so badly, let’s just share the fucking thing.”

Before he could protest, Hajime is marching outside the door, calling out to his aunt for something. Tooru doesn’t even try to think about the thought of them sharing a bed, so he forces himself to sleep as soon as possible. Apparently he is as tired as has hoped and clonks out in three minutes.

(When Hajime comes back to their room, Oikawa’s shirt is riding up his belly. He looks away and pulls it down. “ _Kakabagin ka, tanga_ ,” he mumbles before joining him to bed. ("You'll get a bellyache, stupid.")

Tooru snores softly, he knows this from childhood. Still, he doesn’t sleep a wink.

 

 

 

At some point Tooru ultimately regrets not learning enough English to hold a proper conversation with Hajime’s relatives; he can’t charm his way in and out of conversations, and can’t find out interesting (and embarrassing) tidbits about his best friend and use them against him (but not really) when the odds are against him.

He’s not even used to not talking as much, and he didn’t want to be rude and talk in Japanese all the time, so every time something happens, he has to ask Hajime about it. Hajime, bless his soul, is patient with him throughout. (Sometimes Tooru thinks he’s reading too much into it, but his best friend seems a little too fond and pleased when he explains things in complete detail.)

That same morning, Hajime gives him a trick.

“Remember when I asked you to pack snacks?”

“Yeah, why? You hungry?” Tooru asks. Hajime rolls his eyes.

“No, idiot. Bring them out and cousins will love you forever. It’s sort of like bait, you see? You’ll be their favorite “Kuya Hajime’s friend”.”

Tooru raises a brow. “I’m the only friend you brought here.”

He almost misses the way Hajime smirks.

After emptying his luggage, he tucks the Umaibo, various flavored Kit-Kats, couple boxes of Pocky and senbei crackers in a bag and brings them downstairs. Hajime looks at him weird when he takes out the senbei crackers.

“What? I like them, don’t judge,” Tooru pulls the crackers and hugs them close.

“You sound like an old man, geez.”

Before he could retort some equally insulting descriptor, like _gorgeous_ or _love of my life_ or _grow old with me, you idiot_ , Hajime calls over his cousins one by one. Tooru forgets their names immediately.

 _“May pasalubong na merienda si Kuya Tooru sa inyo, gusto niyo ba?”_ ("Your big brother Tooru brought back snacks for you guys, do you want some?")

The question results to a chorus of cheers and nods, so Hajime gives the bag over (remembering to grab the senbei crackers from Tooru’s arms, much to his annoyance) for the kids to enjoy. They form a circle with the snack pile in front of them, munching on the snacks as they ask Tooru all kinds of questions. Hajime steadily translates the exchange back and forth.

“Kuya Tooru, do you play volleyball too?”

“Yeah! I’m the setter!”

“Whazzat do? Is it as cool as Kuya Hajime’s job?”

“Well, it’s my job to make him look good.” (“Shittykawa, I am not translating that.” “Fine, just tell them that I set up your spikes or something.”)

“Is Kuya Hajime your best friend?”

Tooru gives Hajime a fond look. Hajime looks away. Tooru nods as an answer. (His heart is acting up again.)

“Do you have a girlfriend, Kuya Tooru?”

Tooru groans in annoyance. “No, but there’s someone I like and they’re driving me crazy.”

The kids whoop and tease him, but Hajime isn’t translating anymore. Tooru tries to enjoy their smiles and speculative looks, but it only reminds him of the times when Hajime would come visit when they were kids, and he wonders why he’s getting these kinds of thoughts now, of all the times.

Outside, the sun is high and the streets are empty. They hear the tinkle of a hand bell, and the kids scramble to go outside. Hajime pulls him up too. The street is suddenly lively with kids and their pockets full of coins.

Tooru pays for everyone’s dirty ice cream. He buys mango for himself, and Hajime gets macapuno. He steals a bite from Hajime’s cone. He realizes the taste doesn’t differ as much, but he savors it all the same.

 

 

 

Summer mornings were brutal in the Philippines, so most of them are spent indoors.

During mornings, Tooru takes a bath as soon as they finish breakfast. He’s not sure how everyone else manages not to have a single film of sweat on their bodies. He leaves Hajime to his aunts who ask all kinds of questions about Japan and how his parents are; he’s not sure how families felt when apart, but he figures it’s as awful as separating with Hajime for college.

It’s not like they aren’t gonna be friends anymore, and it’s not like they’re gonna stop playing volleyball anytime soon. Still, his heart aches for their eventual separation.

The water on the tap is cool at first, then warms out as his bath progresses.

He’s not even sure how it’s possible, but he might be sweating while taking a bath, too.

 

 

 

In the afternoon, Tooru finds out that they are currently in the middle of Pandacan, Manila. The neighborhood has a homey feel to it, mostly landed homes with various styles of architecture. Their street extends to a road perpendicular to the main road. Hajime brings him over to some of the stalls that sells “fishballs” and “kwek-kwek” (“You mean like the duck sound?” “That’s _quack-quack_ , you idiot.” “Made you say it though, so who’s the idi-- OW! Iwa-chan, you’re being _rude_!”), and Tooru finds everything delicious.

There’s a river closeby that’s riddled with trash. Hajime takes him to the docks around sundown and tells him that the smell gets a little too bad when the weather’s hot, but he mentions that they could ride a boat across if Tooru wants to. (Tooru most definitely wants to.)

They sit on the waiting area for a while, and Tooru’s surprised that he doesn’t mind the smell as much. Maybe it’s because of the afternoon breeze blowing against them, or maybe the way everything’s turning orange-- from the sky to the reflection of the sun to the water. Numerous birds are perched on the power lines on the other side of the bank.

“Liking the trip so far?” Hajime asks. He might be thinking too much into it, but Hajime seems… hopeful?

“Yeah,” Tooru says with a smile, genuine this time. They sit together in silence until the sun sets.

 

 

 

A few days after, Hajime has planned a quick trip around Intramuros, a walled city within the city of Manila. Tooru marvels at the aged walls and the attempts to preserve the old architecture on their infrastructures within them. There are signage with historical information for some of the buildings, some dating as far as 1607.

The whole time they are walking, they are followed by various pedicab drivers who offers tours around the area. Hajime tries to tell them no as polite as he could, but they come in bouts and he was never known for his patience, so he pulls Tooru on an incline leading to an open area called _Baluarte de San Andres_ , where old cannons facing outside the wall are perched on strategic locations, since the whole area is a redoubt and a watch place for coming enemies.

Hajime leads the way to an opening to the watchtower, but climbs the top of the wall instead. There is a bit of slope on it, but nothing too steep to be considered dangerous. At that height, they could look over the golf field and the tower of Manila City Hall. The clock says it’s 5:30 in the afternoon.

“Sorry about that,” Hajime apologizes when the silence gets a little too tense. “This place is my favorite. Mom used to study in one of the universities around here.”

“Did you go here often too? It seems like you know your way around these walls.”

“Just once or twice. I remember it a lot.”

“Why?”

“It’s Mom’s favorite place,” Hajime answers. “ _Nakita ko na kung bakit_.” ("I can see why.")

“Huh?”

“ _Gusto kita,_ ” Hajime confesses. “ _Sabi ni Mama, magkakaron ng panahon na makikilala ko yung taong dadalhin ko rito para lang makita to. Sorry medyo natagalan, pero eto na nga. Nandito na tayo. Matagal na kitang gusto._ ” ("I like you. Mom said that there would be a time when I'd meet a person I'd want to bring here just to see this. I'm sorry it took so long, but here we are. We're here now. I've liked you for a while.")

“Iwa-chan, you do know I don’t speak Filipino, don’t you?” Tooru asks carefully, trying not to show the panic in his voice. Hajime always makes sure that he translates everything he say into Japanese as soon as he says something in Filipino, but this one sounds like a secret, like he knows Tooru isn’t supposed to understand it.

It’s almost like Tooru missed something important in those words, but he couldn’t understand a thing.

Hajime’s stare is empty and blank.

Tooru’s eyes widen in realization: whatever Hajime just said, he is never meant to know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Meanwhile...)

 

 

 

When Hajime tells him the plan, he’s pretty sure they’re breaking more than their curfew. (To be fair, they’re both 18, and they are of legal age in the Philippines. Still. This sounds way too fishy.)

Besides, isn’t there an unspoken rule that people shouldn’t be travelling at three in the morning? But Hajime’s waving their tickets on his face with a mischievous grin that he’s supposed to be doing, and he wonders how much of himself has he rubbed off on Hajime.

“Have I been an extreme bad influence? Is this my fault? Have I lost the pure and kind Iwa-chan?” Tooru panics, typing everything out as a message to Matsukawa.

“Oi, who the fuck are you texting.”

“Mattsun.”

“Why the _fuck_ are you texting him?”

“Because I know anything I ever do or say would never affect him because he gives absolutely no fucks whatsoever for my well-being so I’m texting him for an unbiased opinion over your general welfare--”

“Oikawa.”

“Iwa-chan?”

“We’re just going to Tagaytay at three in the morning. That’s a normal thing.”

“It is?”

Hajime looks some other direction before answering a skeptic “suuuuure.” Tooru proceeds on texting Mattsun about Hajime’s weird behavior. Hajime’s phone is buzzing in his pocket, but he would rather not answer Mattsun’s screaming when Tooru’s around.

 

 

 

Impromptu trip or not, Tooru knows they would get in trouble once Hajime’s relatives find out they’re boarding a bus to some place called “Tagaytay” at three in the morning. But he is feeling so many things all at once because of Hajime, and he thinks that maybe the anxiety would leave once he’s alone with him again, wherever Tagaytay is.

Hajime has been speaking a lot of Filipino lately and Tooru wishes he knows the language. They are on off footing and Tooru knows that the other knows it and is using it to his advantage because Tooru wouldn’t understand. Sometimes, Hajime would whisper soft things to him and Tooru wouldn’t know what to respond, or how to, even, because his stomach is clenching and his face is heating up so much he could only close his eyes and let it pass. Words fail him; when Hajime wants to be charming, he is extremely good at it. Tooru loses every time.

Hajime has a secret tone, the one where he leans into Tooru’s personal space to whisper directly into his ear. It all comes soft and husky every time, and it makes him weak on the knees when he listens intently. He never understands, Hajime is sly like that, but he doesn’t want to assume. Who is he kidding? It could never be what he wants to hear.

But with this proximity, and with exchanging body heat in the cold, cold bus with their sides pressed together, Tooru couldn’t help but overthink.

Hajime leans in again and says, “ _Ang duwag ko, pero mahal kita._ ”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru whines, and Hajime lets out a small but forced laugh. Feeling annoyed, he records the conversation with his phone. Maybe he could get Obaa-san to translate it when they get back. “Please tell it to me in Japanese.”

“ _Hindi ko kayang mawala ka dahil lang hindi ko makimkim ‘tong nararamdaman ko. Alam kong hindi tayo parehas ng nararamdaman, pero mahal kita._ ”

“Iwa-chan,” He pleads. He knows this is important, knows it with the way Hajime looks so pained as he speaks, and he wants to know what it means. “Hajime, please.”

“ _Wala nang rason para bumalik pa dito sa Pilipinas kasi pag-alis natin dito, iiwan ko na lahat._ ”

“Hajime…”

“ _Pagdating natin sa Japan, hindi na kita mahal. At pinapangako ko yun. Alam kong hindi mo kailangan to; alam kong hindi parehas ang landas na tatahakin natin pagtungtong ng college, pero pag sinabi ko sa’yo to, mapipilitan kang makasama ako dahil hinding-hindi mo ko kayang iwan. Dahil kaibigan mo ko. Dahil kaibigan mo lang ako._ ”

It’s frustrating to hear without knowing what it means, so Tooru stops asking and just listens, with the recorder in his pocket, taking note of every single emotion. He closes his eyes and listens intently, and surprises himself when he feels a lone tear fall down his cheek.

 

 

 

“Why won’t you tell me what it means?”

They are sitting on one of the sheds looking over Taal Volcano, the sun rising slowly from the horizon. From their impromptu packing, Hajime has managed to pack a thermos filled with coffee, and he passes the lid filled with the warm liquid to Tooru.

Tooru rejects the drink, so Hajime takes a careful sip. After three gulps, he sets it aside. Smoke rises from the cup.

“Because I’m a coward,” Hajime tells him. “You know I am.”

“Never,” Tooru disagrees. “You brought me here for a reason.”

A cold breeze washes over them, and for the first time in the entire trip, Tooru is freezing. Hajime is looking elsewhere but him, and it hurts. It feels cold and his chest is hurting; his heart won’t stop beating too fast and he feels like passing out. He brings his feet up and hugs his knees, not knowing what to do.

The picnic grove is silent, with only so few people around them. Tooru wonders if Hajime could hear his heart beating from where he is.

“I have an advantage here,” Hajime says the obvious, and before Tooru could say anything in protest, he blurts out, “ _Patawarin mo ko._ ”

“What does it mean?” Tooru asks, half-hoping Hajime would answer.

It takes a while.

“I’m sorry,” Hajime answers, but Tooru wonders what he’s apologizing for. “That’s what it meant.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“ _Kasi mahal kita_ ,” Hajime tells him with a sad smile. Tooru’s hand is within his grasp, he wraps his finger around Tooru’s pinky. “ _At malaya ka na._ ”

Tooru figures he should stop asking now; he feels so tired. He has never noticed it before, but there was a load in his chest that he brought along, and he’s not sure how to get rid of it. The lump in his throat is getting bigger, and he chokes out a sob.

Hajime finally looks at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so tired, Iwa-chan,” Tooru tells him truthfully, his lower lip wobbling dangerously. He braces himself for the tears. “You’re telling me I’m free, but I’m so _tired_.”

“Is everything okay? Are you hurting somewhere?”

Hajime’s voice is serious, nervous. Tooru feels even more tired. He grumbles out: “I hurt everywhere.”

“Tell me what I can do,” Hajime pleads. Tooru has never heard that before.

“Take me home,” he breathes out. It’s a pain to keep his eyes open. “Please.”

“Let’s go then, we can just grab an Grab—“

“No, to Japan.”

Hajime stops.

In the silence, Tooru lets himself breathe for a while. When he calms down, he opens his eyes.

“Why do you want to go back?” Hajime asks. “Aren’t you happy here?”

The tears fall. Is this how annoying he is in general? He feels so beaten up; Hajime is frustrating him but he can’t annoy him back, not in a way that won’t hurt. “I don’t speak the language, the air is too humid, and I can barely talk to you,” he decides to answer. “Maybe in Japan, you could tell me everything you want to say without hiding behind a language I don’t understand.”

Hajime stays silent. Tooru reaches for his pocket and brings out the recorder.

“Translate everything,” Tooru orders. “Translate everything and I’ll stay.”

“I can’t—“

Tooru snaps. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

Tooru blindingly reaches for Hajime’s pockets. “I’m booking myself a return flight home and I’m leaving you here.”

Hajime groans. He stands up, walks a few steps away and screams. Tooru waits.

When he walks back, he grabs the recorder from Tooru’s hands and sits beside him, hitting the rewind button. He hits play and the recorded voice of Hajime plays. He lets the sentence end before he speaks. “I'm a coward, but I love you."

Tooru’s eyes widen.

"I can’t lose you just because I can’t bottle up my feelings. I know we don’t feel the same way, but I love you.”

Is this what it feels like? To have your heart broken and fixed at the same time? Tooru heaves silently, grasping his chest for not knowing what to do.

“There’s no reason to go back here in the Philippines because when we leave, I’m leaving everything behind.”

Hajime turns to him and rests his forehead on Tooru’s shoulder.

“When we go back to Japan, I won’t love you anymore. And I promise that. I know you don’t need this; I know we won’t be walking the same paths when we reach college, but when I tell you all of these, you’d be forced to stay with me because you can’t leave me.”

Hajime attempts to laugh, breaking midway into a sob.

“Because I’m your friend,” Hajime continues. “Because I’m just your friend.”

Tooru wants to punch him so bad.

“I’m sorry, because I love you,” Hajime leans in and cups Tooru’s cheek. “And you’re free now.”

 

 

 

(Tooru’s secret hiding place is behind the Aoba Jousai gymnasium, where the trees shade over the unused entrance. When they’re given a few minutes to cool down, he would lie down and enjoy the silence.

Until Hajime barges in his secret space and tells him to go back for the cool down stretching.

It happens all the time, and more often than not he manages to pull Hajime into resting with him for a short while. He always grumbles in defeat, sitting beside him and resting his head on Tooru’s shoulder.

Tooru falls in love every single time he hears Hajime’s even breathing, relaxed and vulnerable, only for him.

When he feels a little courageous, he mouths his confessions out while Hajime slumbers, starting with a soft “I love you”, followed by a pained, “all this time.”)

 

 

 

Tooru answers with a laugh. It’s bitter and forced, almost like he’s been keeping it in all this time. “You fucking coward,” he tells Hajime. He hopes it hurts as much as he wants it to be. “You brought me here and expected me to feel happy when you’ve been hiding under your vernacular.”

Tooru hopes it hurts. He gets his wish immediately.

“I know,” Hajime says. “I’m sorry.”

“I wanted to be here,” Tooru confesses. “Everyone’s been so nice and so welcoming but you still couldn’t let me in, even here—“

“Let you in?”

“I had to force everything out of you, even the damn confession. How’s that supposed to make me feel?”

“Oikawa, I—“

That ticks him off. “You can’t even say my name even when we’re alone!”

In the heat of the moment, they’re both at their feet, so close yet still so very far.

Tooru knows that he’s projecting his anger onto Hajime but he can’t help it, the rush feeling too good to say into words. In a foreign land he feels more alone than ever, even with Hajime. The assurance is missing, and it’s all he’s been waiting for.

“Take me home,” Tooru tries again. “Your home.”

Hajime leads the way. The sun is rising behind them, casting long shadows along the grassy plain.

 

 

 

They sit together in the bus, but neither of them says anything.

Tooru falls asleep with tears in his eyes. Hajime watches over him while he does.

 

 

 

When they get back, Hajime receives a scolding so intense, it scares Tooru into trying to appease the elders somehow, but they give him a look that keeps him from doing so.

“ _San kayo pumunta? Hajime, hindi ka naman taga-Maynila! Ano bang malay namin kung san ka pumunta?!_ ” (“Where did you go? Hajime, you’re not from Manila to begin with! How the hell would we know where you went?!”)

“ _Hindi naman po kami lumayo,_ ” Hajime answers curtly. (“We didn’t go anywhere far.”)

“ _Hindi lumayo, eh kanina pa kayo wala?!_ ” (“Didn’t go anywhere far my ass, you’ve been gone for ages!”) 

Hajime looks so small from where he stands, but he pushes through the crowd and goes straight inside the house without any other word. His elders seem agitated at his behavior, and Tooru is wondering how he could make them think otherwise.

It has been such a long morning, and Hajime deserves a moment to himself too.

“ _Di naman siya ganito umasta ah?_ ” (“He’s not usually like this, right?”)

One of his aunts approaches and asks what happened. Tooru tries to find the words to answer, but with the limitations of his vocabulary, he barely has anything to say. ( _To be fair_ , he thinks, _I don’t think I could say anything either in my vernacular.)_

 

 

 

For the rest of the day, they hear nothing from Hajime.

With numerous apologies from Hajime’s aunt, Tooru is left to sleep at the living room. He doesn’t mind one bit; it is significantly cooler downstairs and he is given permission to watch the TV until God knows what. He notes how different television shows are in the Philippines, with their dramatic soap operas and fantasy series.

He turns the television off when nothing interests him anymore, and tries to doze off as soon as he could.

He falls asleep at 3 AM, when he remembers the stories about the ghosts in the house.

(He thinks his brain is playing mind tricks on him, or he just saw a figure passed by the kitchen.)

 

 

 

Tooru, with his limited English and unfamiliarity with the Filipino culture, has to try his hardest to keep up with what’s happening in the house without Hajime. His best friend hasn’t gotten out of their room all morning, and they have already finished lunch. Tooru helped with the dishes.

Afternoons are usually slow for them, so with not much to do, he is left to take care with Hajime’s younger cousins, mostly looking over them as they played outside. He sits by the curb with Shiela, who’s drinking from her juice box with gusto.

When the kids are tired from chasing each other around the street, they sit beside Tooru and ask him questions in English, accompanying every word with corresponding actions to help him understand fully.

“ _Kuya_ Tooru, do you like _Kuya_ Hajime?” 

Tooru blinks at how they formed a heart with their hands, then hearing Hajime’s name afterwards. His face feels warm as he tries to find the right words to say. He’s pretty sure he’s understanding the question right, but what is supposed to answer to that? To Hajime’s cousins, even? How old are these kids, anyway?

“ _Namumula si Kuya Tooru! So crush nga nya si Kuya Hajime!”_  (“Big brother Tooru is blushing! So he does have a crush on big brother Hajime!”)

“W-wait,” Tooru stutters, but they are already running around and cheering. “D-did… Hajime make you… ask that?”

“No,” they answer. “Of course not!”

“Then how…?”

“You look at _Kuya_ Hajime the same way he looks at you!”

“ _Hoy, bat niyo pinagtutulungan yan?”_ (“Hey, why are you bullying him?”)

After hearing the voice from the gate, the kids scatter off to various directions with whoops and cheers, saying “ _andyan na siya”_ (he's here) and “ _lagot tayo”_ (we're screwed). Shiela stands up to pull Hajime to where Tooru is sitting, only to proceed on sitting comfortably on Hajime’s lap.

“ _Kuya, dito ka lang ah? Bati na kayo,_ ” Shiela tugs on their hands and brings them together. (“Big brother, stay here, okay? Make up already.”) Tooru’s not sure if it’s possible to die of embarrassment, but it seems possible at this point. He’s trying to forget a couple of things all at once: his sweaty palms, his flushed cheeks, his erratic heartbeat, his fingers slowly lacing themselves around Hajime’s— _wait_.

_Oh._

Oh, Tooru is the dumbest person in the world.

Hajime’s hiding his face on Shiela’s shoulder. Tooru still wants to punch him.

“You’re such an idiot, Iwa-chan,” He sing-songs, and he half expects Hajime to hit him. (Tooru thinks it would have been better if he did, actually.) Except Hajime raises his head in the middle of a perfect afternoon and smiles. For a few moments, Tooru short circuits.

(The thing is, Iwaizumi Hajime is extreme good-looking. Tooru knows this for a fact because he has to scold most of the team into not looking when Hajime wipes his face with his shirt, exposing his abs and wonderful biceps. (He’d never admit that he spends too long looking at him, too.)

Body-worship aside, he has always been looking forward to seeing his ace smile. When they got older and significantly closer, everything Tooru does always seems to only make the other scowl, so smiles came in sporadic bursts. Any kind of smile is a win for Tooru, but the ones where Hajime’s eyes close in delight are his favorite.)

 _He’s bound to know sooner or later,_ he thinks, _so fuck it._

In a slow afternoon in the heart of Manila, where vendors of merienda are starting to put up their stalls for the bustling crowd, Tooru pulls Shiela’s head to his chest and presses a kiss on Hajime’s lips.

 

 

 

The aftermath is filled with adrenaline pumping in his veins, coursing hot and overwhelming through his bloodstream. The way Hajime is yanking him is completely ignored by then; by the time they reached their shared room, his wrist is hurting a bit, and Hajime is as red as he could go. He locks the door behind him before asking, “For how long?”

Tooru is too afraid to answer. He tries to count the years.

He remembers the way Hajime would chase him around with a bug on hand as a kid, grinning and laughing as he cried and ran away.

He remembers the day they discovered volleyball together, and how they promised they’d go pro someday.

He remembers the day he almost hit Kageyama, and how Hajime stopped him.

He remembers getting into the same high school as he does, and how he smiled to sleep before they started.

He remembers crying over losing before getting the chance to beat Ushiwaka before they graduated high school.

He remembers the secret naps behind the gymnasium, and how he will never get to repeat that ever again, with Hajime going to another university. He remembers how they separated that day, and how he cried about it when he got home.

When he fails to count, he answers, “For far too long.”

 

 

 

(In retrospect, he must have known for ages.

Oikawa Tooru is a cruel man to begin with, but people hardly knew how cruel he is to himself, first and foremost.

In a sleepy haze, he remembers confessions in hushed whispers, of fingers entwining with his, of the gentlest kisses on his cheek, and of a familiar hum he's been wanting to sing along for so long.)

 

 

 

Hajime resorts to sitting down on the floor, covering his blushing face with his arm. Tooru feels extremely cheated on; the guy had the nerve to ask and had the audacity to be the one to blush about it. He followed suit and leaned in to tease Hajime about it.

“Hajime likes me,” Tooru says, surprised at his own disbelief. Hajime nods. “I was afraid of how strongly I felt for you.”

“Me too,” Hajime says. “I couldn’t… stop.”

Stop what he is feeling? Tooru cannot possibly let that happen. He pushes down Hajime’s arm and kisses him again, a little softer than his impulsive one earlier, and he savors the warm and chapped lips Hajime has to offer.

Home is where the heart is, they say. Kissing Hajime feels like coming home for the very first time.

“I’ve been so… blind…” Tooru breathes out when they part. “So, so blind--”

Hajime leans in to kiss him again, shutting him up entirely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their flight back to Japan is met with silence, but Tooru knows everything’s alright. It seems familiar, too; their trip to Tagaytay felt a lot like this, with Hajime pressed against his own arm, their hands linked together by the fingers. Hajime is swiping through their pictures throughout the trip, and Tooru avidly checked them out, on the lookout for the bad pictures of him.

Hajime pauses on a selfie where Tooru is smiling widely at the camera with his eyes closed, and Hajime is fondly looking at him. Tooru turns bright red.

He manages to sneak a kiss on Hajime’s cheek. Hajime smirks, brings their hands closer and kisses Tooru’s knuckles.

_“Tangina ka, mamaya ka sa’kin,”_ Hajime tells him fondly, as if it’s a promise. Tooru unwittingly smiles at him, not knowing the dangers that await him. “Tooru.”

“Hm?”

_“Mahal kita."_

Tooru smiles. He knows what that means, at least. He looks out the window and basks on the beauty of the horizon. The sky has never looked so beautiful.

 

 

\--

**Author's Note:**

> shut up don't look at me like that i'm tired goodbye


End file.
